Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
The fuck else does he think we brought the car for?
“Sure am.” She beams at him and reaches for her purse.
“That’ll be five dollars…” He looks at me expectantly as if he’s waiting for me to give my name.
I’d stashed cash in my pocket earlier and pull out the five just as Margot’s unzipping her wallet.
“I’ve got it, Jigsaw,” she mutters.
Ignoring her, I hand the money to Fred. He dips his chin and nods, the older generation’s version of “good boy,” I suppose.
He hands me a blue ticket with the number sixty-nine on it. My lips curl into a smirk. It must be the universe’s way of telling me that should be Margot’s first lesson.
“Thank you, sir. Anywhere in particular I should park?”
He points straight ahead. “Front of the diner might be a good spot. There’s no official areas designated, though.”
“All right.” I ease the car forward and crawl toward the diner, careful not to hit any of the folks walking in the middle of the street.
I back into a space next to a glistening seventies Ford F-100 pickup. The light blue metallic paint glitters under the late afternoon sun. “Now, that’s my kind of classic,” I say to Margot.
Her eyes widen and she does this little bounce thing in her seat that’s cute as hell. “I love this truck! Wait ’til you see the interior, it’s immaculate.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious. My usual scorn for events that require civilian interaction fades to a dull disdain as I step out of the car.
Margot sets the blue tag on the dashboard, then pulls a small mirror and brush out of her purse. She runs the brush through her hair and by the time she’s finished dabbing on some lipstick, I’m opening her door.
“Oh.” She stares up at me in surprise.
“Ready?” I hold out my hand.
She blinks, then slowly sets her hand in mine. I gently tug her out of the car, pulling her flush against the front of my body. She stares up at me with questions in her eyes.
Kiss her. “You look really pretty tonight.”
Her lips part.
“I should’ve said so sooner,” I continue. “But I got distracted by the pins on your sweater, and the poodles on your skirt.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I’m unable to resist the magnetic pull of her lips for another second. I lean down and brush my lips against hers. A soft kiss. A fraction of what I actually want to do—absolutely devour her.
She presses her hands against my chest. Is she pushing me away? No. The fabric of my T-shirt tickles against my skin as she curls her fingers in the material. She’s trying to pull me closer.
The sharp bleat of a horn tears us apart.
She pushes her glasses into place and fusses with her dress. “Sorry. I’m not very good at public displays of affection.”
What do I say to that? Half my brothers downstate would include fucking on a pool table in front of everyone in the clubhouse as a “display of affection.” A little kiss in the street is nothing. But it’s obviously a big deal to Margot.
“I’m, uh…” She blushes and stammers as she pulls away.
I grab her hip, stopping her from moving farther.
“You said this wasn’t a date…” She flicks her gaze to mine. “What are you doing?”
A note of confusion or hurt lingers in her question. What am I doing? “Lesson one. Getting comfortable with being affectionate in public.”
Her eyebrows scrunch together in a frown of concentration.
“Any man you’re with should want to claim you in public. Let other men know you’re taken.”
“How very primal.”
I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Deep down, we’re all just animals, Margot.”
Margot
My heart’s thudding so hard, Jigsaw can probably hear it over the hum and roar of engines.
He kissed me in the middle of Main Street. Daniel never even wanted to hold my hand in public. I kissed him on the cheek once and he spent the next half hour lecturing me on my inappropriate behavior.
This isn’t supposed to be a date, though. How do I handle this? Treat tonight like a date where I’m gaining experience? A dress rehearsal of sorts? That doesn’t seem fair to Jigsaw, but he did agree to our…arrangement. And he’s the one who kissed me.
“Yes, I guess we are all animals,” I finally say. I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He has to be the most brutally handsome man I’ve ever had in my presence. Having his attention so intensely focused on me is addicting.
“What year is this?” someone shouts, shattering the moment.
Jigsaw growls and puts his arm protectively around my shoulders. A guy, probably a few years older than me, stands by the driver’s side of my car, waving at us.
“Sixty-five,” I answer.
“It’s really nice.” He skims his hand over the hood without quite touching the paint and leaving fingerprints. “You do the work yourself?” He nods to Jigsaw.